


An Unfortunate Happenstance

by fishydwarrows



Series: Detroit: Become Good Place [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - The Good Place (TV) Fusion, Character Death, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hank Anderson Swears, Humor, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 00:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16275707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishydwarrows/pseuds/fishydwarrows
Summary: Hank Anderson is dead.He wakes up in the Good Place, the after life where really great people go when they die.However, there was a mistake.Hank isn't supposed to be there.





	An Unfortunate Happenstance

There was a crash and a bang. The acrid smell of smoke. A sharp pain in his abdomen. Heat, and a wetness that wasn't there before.

 

Hank blinked.

 

A weight (his own) drew him down.

 

The world turned sideways. Lights flashed behind his eyelids. Then, an endless darkness. A rushing feeling.

 

A stop.

Hank woke up.

_ Welcome _ , said the soft blue letters on the wall.

 

_ Everything is fine! _

 

Hank blinked.

He was sitting in cozy room. The walls were a soft beige, the floor was wooden and well-polished, there were a tasteful amount of potted plants.

 

He had been afraid: in pain. How he knew it he didn't know. In back of his mind was something. A screaming something. A deeper sense, maybe his underutilized detective skills, that told him there was something missing. Something wrong.

 

A click.

 

From the left, a door opened. A woman peaked out, and light seemed to back her. She had a long face and smart mouth; there was a twinkle in her eye. Her hair cascaded down a part of her face into a braid. She pushed it behind her shoulder and smiled. 

 

"Henry Anderson. Come on in."

 

Hank followed.

“You, Henry Anderson, are dead.”

 

That was…oh.

 

“Cool.” Hank said and lacking any other coherent forms of thought in the moment he flashed a thumbs up.

 

“Cool. Great.  _ Great. _ ” The woman nodded at him, smiling. Hank dragged a hand over his face and breathed. Breathing. Something he could do. Even though he was dead. Yeah. Cool.

“So, uh,” he elegantly began. “Who are you, what is this place, and I’m dead?  _ Dead:  _ dead?”

“My name is North,” the woman – North said. “I am the architect of this place. This place being the afterlife. And yeah, you’re dead. For sure. We checked.” Hank took the opportunity to really look at North. Before she had seemed as human as him, but now he wasn’t so sure. She had a…vibe. He couldn’t place it yet but…yeah. Glancing he also noticed there was a small circle of light on the side of her temple. It glowed a peaceful blue, not unlike the blue from the other room. Lobby? Again, afterlife. It probably didn’t matter.

 

“What’s up with that.” He said.

 

“Up with that?” North repeated. Hank tapped the side of his head.

 

“Oh! Of course. I sometimes forget you humans don’t have the entire breadth of the universe at your fingertips – Well, you all do, you just never chose to use it.” North leaned across her desk and smiled. “This,” she pointed to the light on her head, “is just a little indicator of who’s who. And also, my emotions. Can’t have you getting me confused for a silly old human.” She winked and relaxed back into her chair, the weight spinning it just a little.

 

“So, it’s a fancy mood ring?” Hank asked. He wondered why any kind of celestial demi-god-ish being would want their emotions on display. Well…he was wondering a lot of things right now. North laughed.

 

“Oh! Yes!” she wiped at her eyes. “Yes! It’s a fancy mood ring. That is hilarious. Albeit almost completely mistaken. But so hilarious. I like you Henry.” Henry, he hadn’t been called that in years. That was another thing he should probably mention.

 

“You can, uh, call me Hank. If we’re gonna be buds or whatever.”

 

“Of course, Hank!” North nodded, her eyes warm. Hank relaxed a little more in his chair, but he had a feeling he wasn’t out of the waters yet. There was still something nagging in his mind – again, something he was missing.

 

“So… who…” Hank searched for words to begin. “Who got it right in the end? About what comes next, I mean.”

 

“Oh, everyone got it about five percent right. Buddhists, Christians, Muslims, Satanists, etcetera. They all got – yeah about five percent.” North gesticulated as she spoke, waving this way and that. “But,” At this North pointed to a framed photo on the wall. “But, David over here guessed about ninety six percent of it all one night in the nineties! We were all so surprised! Yeah, it was a great honor to finally snag him. Prove he was almost completely right and stuff.” Hank observed that the man photographed was distinctly…French. Also, it was not a flattering photo.

“So, everyone – except this David – got about five percent right. Cool. So, am I…” Hank pointed up. “Or…” He jerked his hand down.

 

North reached across her desk and patted Hank’s hand.

 

“Well, in terms of Heaven or Hell. It’s not like that here. More like there’s a Good Place and a Bad Place. However, I can say: you’ve made it, Hank. You’re in the Good Place.”

 

“Great.” Hank said. Though, he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

 

North showed him around the as she called it “neighborhood”. From what Hank could grasp from her obviously memorized spiel, the neighborhood 31451RK, was her first run at the whole afterlife business.

 

“Actually,” North had admitted on stage after an orientation video had finished, “An architect isn’t supposed to stay with a neighborhood after they finish. But, I’ve decided to stay and help you all adjust.”

 

Apparently also soulmates were real.

 

Cool.

At last, North brought Hank to his new home. He noticed the house was moderately sized. A lot of cool tones – blue, grey, white, and again lots of blue – filled up his vision. There were also… pigeon statues? There was a pigeon mobile in the living room, what looked like a pigeon cookie jar, umbrella stand, and…yeah, everything was just…pigeons. Hank walked around, taking it all in. From the corner of his eye he saw a bookcase. He sent a silent praise to the – well, to where he was for the books. Instead of real paper and ink, they were all those stupid ebooks and magazines. That nagging in his mind started up again.

 

“This is…wow. Thanks North.” Hank tried not to sound ungrateful. He had gotten into the Good Place after all, so what he couldn’t turn the pages of a book or look around the room without catching an eyeful of pigeon?

 

“Before I go, I have two more things to show you.” North snapped, and a screen formed in the air with a zap. “Here you can look back on all your favorite memories! Like this one:” North swiped and opened a dot on the screen, “When you taught the alphabet to all those sick children in Burma. Or…oh! When you protested illegal whaling off the coast of Greenland.” The nagging feeling in his mind finally stopped, instead Hank felt utter dread.

 

“Isn’t it wonderful!” North smiled.

 

“Uh…yeah. Peachy.” He automatically answered.

 

“Secondly,” at this, North bustled over to the front door, “I want you to meet your soulmate, Simon.” In the house came a tired looking man in maybe his late twenties. He tentatively held out a hand.

 

“Hello Henry.”

 

“Hank,” Hank corrected.

 

“Hank – sorry. Yes, hello, uh. I am…your soulmate.” Hank shook his hand. North looked upon them both appraisingly. “Well!” She clapped her hands together, the screen disappearing in tandem.

 

“I’ll leave you both together for a while,” she winked and strolled out the door.

 

Hank dropped onto the couch. It was a little stiff. Simon joined him, all smiles and slightly nervous energy. He shifted and dragged a hand over his face. Turning his grimace into a smile as he turned towards Simon.

 

“So, since you’re my soulmate and all that jazz…you’ll trust me no matter what, right?”

 

Simon smiled nervously, “Of course?”

 

“Great.”

 

Hank sucked in a breath.

 

“I don’t belong here.”

 

“What?” Simon squeaked.

 

Hank leveled him with a flat look.

 

“They got my name right, but other than that. Nada. I’ve never been out of country let alone Burma. I’m from Detroit, for god’s sake. They must’ve got something wrong.” Simon gaped at him.

 

“Yeah.” Hank sighed.

 

“I – uh, I can’t. I have to think about this. Can you give me just two – no three, no – uh, some seconds, please?” Simon stammered, rising from the couch. “Sure, yeah. Take your time.” Hank waved a hand to the door. Simon tried to smile but, yeah, it was pretty obvious he was freaking out. The door closed quickly. A minute later there was a distinct screaming sound. Hank groaned.  

 

“Aw, fork.”

 

He paused.

 

“Wait a minute,” he said to the air.

 

“Why can’t I say  _ fork _ ?”

                                   -    -

“I’m telling you, Simon. They made a huge mistake somehow.” Hank attacked his frozen yogurt with a passion. After recovering somewhat Simon had requested they do something before anything else happened. The something ending up being one of the many frozen yogurt places around the neighborhood.

 

“I mean, this is forking terrible. Shirt. Fork. I mean – okay, why the Heck can’t I say fork?’

“I guess a lot of people in the neighborhood don’t like swearing so we just…can’t here?” Simon smiled uncertainly. Hank stabbed into his yogurt. “That’s forking bullshirt.”

 

“Look – maybe it’s a test?” Simon spooned some frosty pink yogurt into his mouth. “Maybe, you have to prove you’re actually good by admitting you’re in the Good Place and then you get to stay for real? I mean – what were you like on Earth? Where are you from on Earth? You said you lived in Detroit?”

 

“Yeah, uh,” Hank wiped his mouth and tried to add some cheer into his already worsening demeanor. “Well, I was born in Detroit, Michigan. I went to Michigan State and lived in East Lansing and then I…moved back to Detroit.”

 

Whatever smile Simon had faded.

 

“Oh.” He said.

 

“Yeah,” Hank sighed. “and I am – was a police officer.”

 

“That’s… not great.” Simon said. 

 

“Yeah, I know. And also, I was an alcoholic.”

 

Simon winced.

 

“That’s not better.”

 

“I  _ know. _ ” Hank groaned.

 

He sighed and slumped back in his wicker chair. Maybe the Bad Place wasn’t that  _ bad.  _ Eternal torture, sure, great, but he managed to do that enough to himself on the daily. He’d been a cop. He’d seen shirt. Maybe it’d be, not great, but at least kind of okay.

 

“Is there any way we can see what the Bad Place is actually like?” He asked.

 

Simon paused, “I don’t know but…actually, we could ask Connor.  _ Connor! _ ” A chiming noise rang, and a man appeared next to their table. Literally, appeared. Like he had been edited in. It was freaky. “Hello!” The man said. He had soft brown eyes and a funny shining little bowtie. Hank noticed he had one of those mood ring things that North had. Huh.

 

“My name is Connor. So nice to meet you.” The person (thing?) man, said. Hank tried to smile but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

 

“What does…Connor do?” Hank asked.

 

“Connor’s kind of like a walking data base. He can find anything for us and knows everything.” Simon said. Hank glanced at Connor once again. It was kind of strange, he thought, to have someone basically be a servant in the Good Place. It’s not like they couldn’t just do stuff themselves. It perturbed him. Simon seemed fine with it though. Well, Heck why not try it.

 

“Hey, uh, Conrad,” He said.

 

“Connor.”

 

“Yeah. Connor. How is my dog doing?” Connor blinked a little. Hank watched the light on his temple flicker. “Your dog, Sumo. Is doing perfectly alright. He is currently being watched by Jeffrey Fowler. A man who was your previous co-worker.”

 

“Huh. Thank you, Connor.” Hank said. Connor tilted his head; a confused expression crossed his features. Hank thought he might have something to say. However, Connor remained silent and smiled once more. “Is there anything else I can help you two with?”

 

“Connor,” Simon asked. “What is the Bad Place like?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor said brightly, “That is the one subject I’m not allowed to talk about. However, I can play you this small audio clip of what is happening in the Bad Place right now.” Connor opened his mouth. Just like in forking Lilo & Stitch, noise came out, instead of Elvis it was the terrified screams of lots of people. Hank was sure he heard a woman scream “The bear has two mouths!” Then, there was a roaring noise. Whatever appetite Hank had for any food, frozen yogurt or otherwise, was now completely gone.

 

“Okay, Connor!” Simon squeaked. “That’s enough!”

 

In an instant, the noises stopped.

 

“Bye!” Connor disappeared with a chime. 

 

“Oh gosh, okay, okay. The Bad Place is terrible. I’ll admit I should have expected that.” Simon stared at his hands. He was clenching his spoon tightly in his fist.

 

“Hey, kid,” Hank said. “Simon.” He looked up. “It’s okay. I just gotta figure something out. I wasn’t just a police officer. I was a detective. I’ve got…skills? Just – don’t worry. Or if you’re gonna worry. Ignore it. It works for me.” Simon narrowed his eyes at Hank, “That’s… not as comforting as you’re trying to make it. But – thanks, I guess.”

 

Hank sighed. “No problem, kid.”

 

“Well…I’ll…I’ll leave you alone for now. I think we’ve both got some things to figure out.” Simon mumbled.

 

“Yeah no shirt, Simon.” Hank said, a sinking feeling coiled in his gut.

                                   -   -

Back at his new house Hank considered his options. He could confess right now and work off the small hope that it was in fact a test of his good character. But he really doubted that. Or he could not say anything and do nothing. Yep. That sounded right.

 

“Ugh, fork.” Hank muttered.

 

How could he ever stay in the Good Place if it was all a mistake? And not only that…there was one question that had been nagging incessantly at him since he had woken up.

 

“Hey, uh –” He said. Fork, what was that robot guy’s name?

 

“Collin? Conan? Carey – no, uh…  _ Connor _ ?”

 

There was a chime and Connor appeared right by his shoulder making Hank start.

 

“Geez! Fork. Gosh, okay. Uh, hi. Connor.” Hank stuttered.

 

“Hello Hank!” Connor smiled. “What do you need?”

 

“You can, uh, you can tell me about anyone and anything…right?” Hank asked. “That is correct. I am a database of everything in the universe and I can perceive everything. In fact, a man named Jesse Williams is taking a badly angled selfie in front of a Jamba Juice in Beverly Hills at this very moment.”

 

Hank paused.

 

“O-kay…” He said.

 

“So, uh, can you – Do you – Could you please tell me if Cole Anderson is in the Good Place?” Hank asked, the words heavy in his mouth. There it was again, that confused expression Connor had made at him at the froyo place.

 

“Of course, Hank.” Connor said softly. “Cole Anderson is currently presiding in neighborhood 82351HK of the Good Place. He is alright.” Hank let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 

“And…is there any way to see him?” Hank said, barely holding onto a hope.

 

“I’m sorry, Hank. That knowledge has been restricted from me.” Connor said. Hank laughed bitterly. Connor actually almost sounded sorry.

 

“Thank you. And uh, don’t sweat it, kid.” Hank pat him awkwardly on the shoulder. “I should’ve known better anyhow.” He said bitterly. Connor looked at him strangely once then disappeared.   
  


Hank sank down onto his stiff couch and sighed.

 

Everything did  _ not _ feel fine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And please leave a comment if you liked it! ^^
> 
> EDIT: instead of a long fic I'm going to make this a series!


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